A Clean Slate
by Gra'fr
Summary: Hermione makes a decision for herself to leave the European Wizarding World, unable to face what's left. A year after her disappearance, she meets the two men who will help bring her back home. Reviews appreciated. Will be a slow burn. Ch 6 is up: Explaining Hermione's trauma.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note:** First time posting here on FF. I've written before but rarely post it up online. I have a general idea of where this is going but between real life commitments and my own dissatisfaction with my writing style, I can't promise to update often. I will try though, or at least make a note of it if I choose to put this on indefinite hiatus. Reviews would be most welcome._

_Also, I don't own Harry Potter._

_**Summary:** The war left Hermione scarred. Realising that dealing with what's left is as painful as doing what's right, Hermione makes a decision for herself to leave the European Wizarding World for Australia in the hopes of finding her parents. A year after her disappearance, she meets the two men who will help bring her back home. Hermione/Viktor or Hermione/Charlie depending on the direction the story goes._

* * *

For Hermione Granger, the quiet of the night had meant many different things at some point or another in her life.

In her first few years at Hogwarts, it had been a time of exploration and centering, giving her some time to catch up on her schoolwork and reading, as well as an opportunity to get away from her peers and have a little quiet time. While she appreciated being a part of the Gryffindor 'family', she had never been an overly social person and having to hang around her loud housemates would take its toll on her. As such, she'd excuse herself to hide away in the library where no one would bother her. Hardly anyone would miss the know-it-all (unless an assignment was due) and even her best friends simply considered her library sessions to be a quirk of hers that they'd have to accept. Of course, fate would have it that classes would eventually be the least of her worries and as day turned into night; her attentions would eventually be focused elsewhere. On these quiet nights, Hermione would explore this whole new world she'd been thrust into, eager to find a new way to approach the world around her.

After Voldemort returned at the end of her fourth year, the quiet nights had been a time of contemplation and planning. The war loomed on the horizon and the tension amongst the Order only served to remind her how easily things to come to a full-scale war, one that could easily have her family caught in the crossfire. At the end of each day, she would quietly ponder how she'd end up in such a situation. Learning she was a witch had already shattered her image of the world and forced her to accept that her very understanding of the world . The entire situation however had been insane. She had grown up in Muggle peacetime, only to have her thrust into the Wizarding world, fresh out of a war, and now it was about to be plunged into conflict once more. She put on a brave face for Harry and Ron, but she had honestly been terrified.

As the Order reformed_ (yet the adults tried to shield the children from the harsh truths that occurred beyond the walls of 12 Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts)_ she found herself asking Bill and Charlie what it had been like growing up at the close of the last war. Being eleven and nine respectively on the night the Dark Lord was defeated they, unlike their younger siblings, had some awareness of how dark those times truly were. However, while Bill would try to shield her from the truth, Charlie had been forthcoming with the fear and anxiety they felt growing up. Wondering if either of their parents would be home that night, intentionally avoiding looking at the Weasley clock for fear of what it would show, and trying to remain strong for their younger siblings. Charlie admitted that the brave front that Bill and he had been forced to put up was the main reason they were so detached from the rest of their siblings, and also contributed to being a major factor for why they left the country when they graduated. They needed to be free. Free from the weight of being the elder siblings, the ones to assure the rest that their parents would be alright, the ones that were not allowed to shed any tears or show any fear, even as children.

Knowing that she wouldn't be able to handle the anxiety if she had to worry about her defenceless parents while at the frontlines of the war next to Harry, Hermione had already begun to plan how she would protect her parents. She read up on wards, safe havens in the Wizarding world and finally, memory charms.

When the inevitable war broke out, the quiet of the night was the embodiment of her fears; the unknown. Had she properly planned ahead? Had she not learnt a crucial spell? Was there something else to Dumbledore's gifts that she wasn't seeing? Were Snatchers lurking about just outside her wards? Would her wards even last? The questions plagued her every time she looked out of their tent and into the woods surrounding them, whenever she closed her eyes and saw Bellatrix Lestrange's face, and every time she tried reminding herself that they would make it through the night.

So when the war finally ended, she believed that the quiet of the night would give her some level of solace once more, and she hoped that she would achieve a level of normalcy, but she didn't. Between the events she was pressured to attend, the prying eyes of the public, her friends trying to move on and dive into their relationships in an attempt to pretend that things were already back to normal, her reluctance to just jump into a relationship with Ron, her inability to track down her parents... Her nightmares... Her fears. Her guilt. Her regrets.

Despite winning the war, Hermione, like so many of her friends, did not walk away unscathed. Gone was the girl who would spend her Sundays sitting in her father's reading room, trying to impress him with how much knowledge she could retain. Instead, that girl had grown up, been forced to fight, and despite saving everything she held dear, had lost everything. Her parents were lost to her, wherever they were. She was unable to look any of her friends in the eye anymore, memories of the war immediately coming up to mind before any other. To top it off, she was unable to even walk the streets without people staring at her in a mixture of reverence and fear. It was too much.

She couldn't handle it, and so she suffocated under the pressure.

And one quiet night, Hermione Granger snapped her wand and vanished.

* * *

_**Coming Up in the Next Chapter:** We see where Hermione is a year after she ran away and her first encounter with Charlie Weasley since then._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note:** As much as I'd like to get to the romance, a core element of this story will involve characters dealing with personal traumas and conflicts. It's not going to be full of angst but it's not going to be full of fluff either. I know that might turn off some readers but it's what I'm more comfortable with writing for my first fic on this site._

_Also, just to be clear, this story is not epilogue compliant and present day is early December 1999, one year after Hermione ran away, a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts. On the plus side, the turn of the millennium is open to me to write on._

_Finally, the Weasley family MOSTLY had East End accents in the films but the Burrow is located in Devon, South West of England. I'm just going to take it as it is, oh well._

_I don't own Harry Potter._

* * *

**A Year Later**

Running away from England had been surprisingly easy for Hermione. She'd snapped her wand to prevent any further spells she'd casted from being linked to her. Stealing another's wand would not have been an option because wands were so closely identifiable to the witch or wizard who owned it that she would have been essentially carrying incriminating evidence in her hand. Crafting a wand of her own had been tempting, and the idea of being able to make make-shift wands had been a direction of her pre-war research. However, wand making was too esoteric of a craft and seemed to walked a fine line between delicate and calculative balancing of the materials used and a strange mystical element of partnering and shaping the different components to craft wands with certain specialties and 'souls'. Feeling like she was attempting to learn Divination once again, she'd abandoned that line of research. Eventually she had discovered that Apparition and wandless magic were her safest bets in regards to operating undetected. So when Hermione decided to disappear off the face of the European Wizarding world, she had already been prepared with that bit of knowledge, in addition to her awareness of Muggle transport options. Aside from Confundus and Memory Charms, Hermione rarely felt the desire to use any complex spells while on the run.

Knowing that she had abandoned her friends, the only goal she could make for herself was to find her parents. She had known that they'd left for Australia, and so she had went straight there. Things had been far from easy, but within two months, she had settled in comfortably with a small apartment in a suburb just outside the city of Melbourne, and found a Muggle job working at a small cafe in that area. Eventually, she'd found her way into the local Wizarding community. Unlike the one in Britain, there was no official Australian ministry due to the multiple governments attempting to claim different areas of the country. Multiple foreign ministries set up clear territories along the relatively uncontested Northern side of the country. However, Victoria (where Melbourne was situated) had unclear territorial lines due to the different ministries competing to hold land. As such, witches and wizards along the Southern side were nearly impossible to track, though there were often enough Aurors from the different ministries that ensured a safe environment.

Australia had been scouted by multiple magical governments due to the unique nature of the land, particularly along the Southern side. Central Australia was an arid desert that hosted several unique species of plants and creatures, many of which had yet to be researched. However, South ofAustralia was a clear and open path to Antarctica. Thus, sudden changes between North and South winds meant the difference between hot desert winds or cold Antarctic chills, resulting in yet another range of creatures along the Southern face of the continent that had adapted to survive and take advantage of such weather.

Sipping daintily at a cup of lightly brewed, peppermint tea, Hermione leaned back into the chair poring over the letter. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air but despite Melbourne's strong coffee culture, she'd been unable to appreciate the strong and bitter taste and so retained her preference for a gentle cup of tea as her beverage of choice. Gazing once more at the letter in front of her, she steeled herself for what was to come.

_ Hermione_

_ Pearson and Murphy's at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. I know it's you. Please don't run again._

Somehow, despite the concise wording of the letter, Hermione had an idea of who had sent it. If her hunch was correct only _he_ would have an excuse to be here, have an idea that she would come here, and be able to track her down while claiming to be here for other reasons. Running would not be an option then because he would never have attempted to make a move unless he had planned for her attempting to evade him.

"Hello, love."

A strong East End accent pulled her out of her reverie and hazel eyes met dark blue ones. Hermione found herself unable to breathe. Memories of a life she'd been running away from swam to the surface of her mind and Charlie Weasley's eyes pinned her down with an accusatory gaze, despite his relaxed posture. She attempted to distract herself by taking in the image of the man in front of her. The heat wave was unbearable and it hardly surprised her to see him in a loose, pale blue bodybuilding singlet that hung low, and teasingly showed off his muscular chest and side muscles. Despite her preference for more conservative clothing, she found herself in a pair of cream-coloured short shorts and a thin white tee-shirt. Despite the cooling charms that were present in magical establishments at this time of the year, the Australian sun just didn't seem to let up.

"Hello Charlie, it's... been quite some time."

Sliding into the chair across from her, Hermione wondered if she should be disappointed that the man in front of her was not who she had been expecting.

"I recognize that look y'know, Mione. It hasn't been enough time has it?"

In her head, Hermione could hear '_to move on from the war' _attached to the end of his question but out of consideration for her, he'd given her an opportunity to assume he was referring to her guilt due to running away from everyone, shame at abandoning Ron when he was clinging to her so desperately, or agony at the idea of being unable to find her parents ever again.

She knew he meant well, but she'd felt cornered because of all the people who'd found her, it had to be a Weasley. Of all the Weasleys, Charlie would have been the Weasley who she'd be most comfortable with; not close enough to have been too emotionally invested in her company but close enough that he would understand her. However, she still found that she had to put effort into breathing, temporarily forgetting how to do so. Her fear, masked by her defiance, surged to the surface and she attempted to lash out however she could.

"You tell me Charlie. You ran away once too."

Dark blue eyes narrowed, but Charlie didn't rise to her attempt to jab at him. Hermione was both knowledgeable and aware of the world around her and so it was a horrible strength (and fault) of hers to be able to identify sensitive topics and either defuse or abuse them. Part of her felt ashamed at using a fact that he had trusted her with against him but thankfully, Charlie simply drew his lips into a thin line before responding calmly.

"Yes, and when I finally came back, I had to face that fact."

"I'm not going back Charlie. I'm not ready to face them."

Charlie tilted his head, considering the woman in front of him. It made Hermione uncomfortable to realize that he was looking at her with a humorous look in his eyes.

"Mione, I'm not here to take you back. I'm not here on behalf of anyone, least of all a family I ran away from once upon a time."

A wave of relief washed over Hermione as she took in his words. After all, Charlie had never been one for manipulation and secrets. He was blunt and direct, and if he said something, she honestly believed she could trust him. After all, he'd been one of the first to ever regard her as an adult at the start of the war. Nights spent confiding in him and listening to his personal reflections had bonded them. Somehow, she knew that he understood her actions better than anyone else when she'd left. However, she was also certain he'd made no attempt to explain them to anyone lest they draw similarities between her actions and his. A deep sigh pulled her out of her musings to look Charlie in the eye and see his muted acceptance of her.

"I just wanted to see you."

A moment of silence passed before he continued.

"Love, things are never going to go back to the way they were and I'm not going to be the one to tell you that you need to go back. If you go back to England, do so because you're ready to deal with that feeling of fear washing over you again, possibly stronger than before since it'll hit you all at once. I just..."

For the first time since they'd met, Charlie actually looked uncomfortable.

"I was tipped off that you were here. I wasn't quite sure but my work brought me here since the British territory here managed to secure one of the local species of dragons for study. When I was forced to come here I knew I just had to check if it was true. You've been sorely missed, and I don't mean to guilt you. Just stating the facts."

"_You've been sorely missed."_

His choice of words hung between them and it occurred to Hermione that what he'd actually meant was '_I missed you_' but she didn't ponder it any further.

"Well you've found me Charlie. What now?"

Charlie stood up and held his arm out to Hermione.

"Well you can choose to not take my hand and I walk out the door, and you pray that you don't see me around while I'm here for the week."

"And if I do take your hand?"

"Then I say we grab some supper, then head on to a pub, and then drink till our guilt spills out of us with our food."

"Charming description."

"Never needed to be especially charming with the usual bints I meet."

"Have some class, Charlie."

He peered down at her, a grin plastered on his face. Hermione felt a strange burning sensation inside of her, and realized that it was rather comforting to feel like she wasn't alone. It had been so long since she'd let anyone get close, surely it couldn't hurt this once. Her dainty hand moved to clasp his calloused one, silently accepting his offer.

As the sun rose the next morning, the her tiny hand was dwarfed in his again, as Charlie held the bushy haired witch close. The morning sun slowly drew the two of them from their slumber.

* * *

_There we go! Chapter 2 is up. By the way, I intend to draw a distinct line between a physical relationship and a romantic one and I intend to use this as a way to humanise the characters. Hermione's sexual activities are in no way a clear indication of who she has feelings for so if you want a story where sexual relations are idealised then this won't be for you._

_Review please!_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note**: By the way, I do have a direction that I intend to go down, but I also have a tendency to just spontaneously develop and polish ideas while it's being typed so the overarching plan does change._

_Also, I thought I should make it clear that Hermione is only partially integrated into the Australian wizarding community. Obviously, she can't be too active or she'll risk being recognized. Furthermore, she is still without a wand._

_I don't own Harry Potter._

* * *

It occurred to Hermione that she should feel somewhat uncomfortable waking up in Charlie's arms, but she couldn't help but appreciate the feeling of a hard and muscular chest pressed firmly against her back while his large erection rested against the small of her back. It brought up memories of his swollen member teasing her entrance while he trailed kisses up her back, before resting his chin on the crook of her neck muttering under his breath as he gently entered her. His touch had been reverent despite his dirty mouth muttering his appreciation and fascination with her.

Oddly enough, the memory failed to arouse or repulse her, and she wondered if that reflected on how far detached from her emotions she had finally become. Ignorant to her thoughts, Charlie smiled against the back of her neck; his voice a low and quiet rumble. Hermione almost felt his words rather than heard them.

"So how're you feeling? Awkward? Angry? Guilty?" he teased.

"I..."

The standard token response of 'I feel fine,' died on her lips and a compulsive desire to be bluntly honest washed over Hermione. Without a second thought she decided to go along with it. After all, she'd been uncharacteristically careless with him already.

"I think that if I thought about it, I'd feel sorry for myself."

Hermione forced herself to look at the wall rather than turn around and look at Charlie in the eye as he held her. Words flowing from her, she continued before she could stop herself.

"Then again, I think that'd be a horribly selfish thing to do. Feeling sorry for myself, I mean."

She felt Charlie let out a warm relieved sigh on her ear and considered that he might have been somewhat hesitant to hear her answer.

"You think it's selfish of you to think about how you feel?"

"No, I think it's selfish of me to feel sorry for myself. After all, I'm in this situation entirely by choice."

"That's not true, love. You only chose how you responded to events that were out of your control."

Hermione stiffened as she felt a hand slowly glide down her stomach towards her most private areas and she stopped him.

"I have no idea what came over me."

"Well it wasn't grief or booze, dear." Charlie sighed as he pulled himself a way and moved to sit on the edge of Hermione's bed. For the first time since she'd settled in here, Hermione took a good look at her apartment. The tiny bedroom they were in was functional and held few personal effects. It was bare, with white walls, a simple wooden closet sat in the corner and a bedside table stood next to a queen-sized bed. Sunlight streamed through venetian blinds in thin strips and looked to hug Charlie's body in strips of sunlight, highlighting the curves of his muscles. In a room that was devoid of any real feeling of being part of a home, he stood out and Hermione felt rather uncomfortable. She was soon brought out of her contemplation as he continued speaking and her eyes followed his movements as he stood up and gave the room a proper once over. Something he probably hadn't done the night before as he'd carried her into the room, her legs locked around him as he all but threw her onto the bed before pouncing on her.

"Hermione, we didn't drink, not one drop, and even though we talked about the war, you didn't break down. Was downright creepy actually, thought you were completely barking to have shut yourself off from the world, in the way you did."

Dark blue eyes met her hazel ones, and she saw his question in his eyes before he even had to say it.

"So why'd you agree to this?"

Hermione pursed her lips and turned her head to stare at the bare wall once again. Why had she agreed? They had gone go grab a bite, a simple meal in a Muggle pub. Conversation was awkward as he danced around the obvious topic of her emotional state and she avoided bringing up any of the Weasleys, or Harry, or Hogwarts, or the Wizarding World. The war was brought up, including the horrid scar Hermione still had on her forearm from Bellatrix Lestrange, but Hermione gave short succinct answers to end that line of conversation whenever the topic was brought up. Soon, they had found they didn't have much to talk about.

She mulled over how the idea of hooking up had even come about.

* * *

_Charlie stared at her across the table. Hermione met his gaze, unwilling to back down from the perceived challenge in his eyes, though it was probably just as likely that he was lost in thought. He made the first move, which didn't bother her because as far as she was nervous enough as it is. She wasn't about to overextend herself despite having taken him up on his offer for company. _

"_Well I don't think it would help either of us to drink while we're this tense."_

"_So what do you suggest then Charlie?"_

_Charlie moved to rest his elbows on the table, his chin rest on his hand. His eyes regarded her with sympathy, and Hermione felt herself bristle at the idea of him pitying her._

"_It's scary isn't it? Having a reminder of what you left behind in front of you after a whole year."_

"_Well you're certainly a master of craptacular segues, aren't you?" she huffed._

_A small grin broke out on Charlie's rugged features, and Hermione took a moment to acknowledge that he would be very charming if he didn't radiate smugness at riling her._

"_Answer the question Mione."_

"_No it isn't," Hermione replied, stubbornly refusing to back down. "I know what I left behind, and you should be able to understand that too. I don't need your sympathy so if you came all the way here to find me, then please get it over with."_

_A tenses moment of silence passed before Charlie continued in a drawl that conveyed his growing irritation. _

"_Like I said, I came down here for work and I was told you were here. Naturally I thought to seek you out, there isn't some ulterior motive here beyond me wanting to see how you've been."_

"_Well get your eyeful then. Anything else you want?"_

"_I'd like to offer you a chance to know how everyone is doing. I promise I won't make it too emotional, just facts. Believe it or not I'm not trying to guilt you into anything."_

_Hermione paused, considering his offer, and for a moment she realised that Charlie would understand her well enough to be sincere with that promise._

"_Okay, but if you try make it 'too emotional', I leave. Deal?"_

"_Deal."_

_For the next half an hour, Charlie gave her the facts, avoiding discussing how everyone else was feeling where possible. Harry and Ginny had married in a spur of the moment decision and while they were still working out the kinks in their relationship, it was going as smoothly as could be expected. He had given up on the idea of being an Auror and instead returned to Hogwarts where he took up the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, while Ginny pursued her Quidditch career. Hermione refrained from asking how they intended to make a fresh marriage work when they would be apart so much._

_Ron had gone on to be an Auror, throwing himself into it. Currently, he and Harry were having another spat since Ron blamed Harry for his career choice. Hermione refrained from asking if how he had been affected by her leaving._

_Bill and Fleur were expecting a baby. Arthur and Molly would often spend weekends with the couple to help them get ready. Hermione refrained from asking about the child's name._

_George had given up on the business he used to share with Fred. Instead he had started another business doing custom enchantments with Bill. Hermione refrained from asking if he, like her, had nightmares._

_Percy had given up on the Ministry and had decided to go on an extended trip to 'figure things out'. In his last owl, he had decided to use his own personal savings to study 'alternative magic' in Indonesia. Hermione refrained from asking if the family still had a grudge against his decision to stand with the Ministry during the early portion of the war._

_Hermione looked at Charlie and refrained from asking him how he'd been. After all, the goal was to prevent herself from caring again; from being vulnerable. _

_Taking a gulp of water from the glass in front of him, Charlie looked Hermione in the eye. _

"_So that's it. That's where everyone is now."_

"_Thank you, and... thanks for being as factual as possible about this."_

_Sighing, Charlie gave her a wry grin. _

"_I told you that you could trust me. I know what it's like."_

"_If you know so much then what do you think I should do now?"_

_Hermione nearly left as the words came out of her mouth. Without realizing it she'd asked for help. She'd let herself get vulnerable. Charlie still held her gaze and Hermione hoped that her trepidation wasn't noticed. No choice now but to see this through._

"_Well, when I first left, I found a certain numbing quality to getting laid; drowning myself in physical stimuli to avoid thinking at all. It's nothing but escapism, though it's not as unhealthy as some of the other options."_

_Charlie's eyes smoldered as his eyes silently offered her his body. Quiet promises passed and Hermione found herself somewhat intrigued by his suggestion. Perhaps tonight, she wouldn't have nightmares._

_She gave him a nod, and they stood up together to leave._

* * *

Pulling herself out of her memory she looked at Charlie and answered his question.

"I agreed because you said it might help me distract myself."

"Did it?"

A moment passed as she thought about it. Charlie's expression looked almost hopeful, and Hermione gave the honest answer.

"No."

"Ah."

An awkward silence passes.

"Thank you for trying to help me though Charlie. I... think you should go now."

"Right..."

Hermione rolled onto her back, tearing her eyes away from the bare wall to stare at the bare ceiling instead, willing herself not to look at the red at the edge of her peripheral vision.

"Charlie."

Charlie stilled, and Hermione felt his questioning stare burn her skin, that was feeling rather cold now that his warmth had left her. However, she still refused to meet his gaze.

"Yes Mione?"

"Who tipped you off that I was here?"

It was likely that he wouldn't tell her, but she a nagging feeling told her that she needed to know. Dark eyes that were practically pitch black came to mind and Hermione felt her heart speed up as Charlie audibly took in a deep breath, preparing to give her a response.

"Viktor Krum."

* * *

_There we go. Krum comes into play. I'll finally be able to bring in the last of our main characters before we start exploring what Hermione's left behind. Also we can now start having Hermione develop as a character until she's ready to make her mind up. So far, things are still going according to my plans but I'm reaching a diverging point in the story arc and I'm figuring out which one I want to go down. After the next chapter, things might slow down a little bit while I recalculate (god I sound like a GPS) the story's direction._

_Reviews please!_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note**__: Sorry it's taking so long to get to any actual romance, but as someone who's had PTSD in the past, I can honestly say that getting past escapist tendencies to try to move on in life isn't a quick process. Also, I'm sorry if the set up is taking awhile but I've got to lay the groundwork first._

_I'm happy to say that Viktor finally makes his appearance though. =D_

_I don't own Harry Potter._

* * *

Brunswick was a suburb just outside of Melbourne city; between Hermione's workplace and apartment, and she tended to go there for the cosier cafes that would be undoubtedly quieter than those in the city. After almost a year in the peaceful city, Hermione had found a routine in working a morning shift, with the occasional full-day shift, before retiring to one of the quieter suburbs outside of the city to read. Whenever she'd finish a book, she'd brave the local Wizarding alleys and pick up another from the first book store that caught her eye. She avoided returning to the same shop twice, which made it painful when she saw multiple books that caught her but shopkeepers tended to remember customers who spent a lot and that was just as risky. Then she would savour her book of choice for as long as she could before she'd venture back and risk being recognised, often reading her book a few times to delay returning to the Wizarding territories.

A familiar scent hit her nose before she realised he was behind her.

Viktor had always smelled like wood and when she'd encountered him between the bookshelves of the Hogwarts library; where he had cornered her to try to talk to her, she had assumed it was the smell of his broom until she failed to detect the scent of wood polish mixed in. She'd been so curious regarding his unique scent that after they'd started spending more time together during the Triwizard Tournament, he'd noticed her inhaling deeply during their hugs. She recalled a rather awkward confession, admitting she had been curious and having to admit to a blushing Viktor that he did not smell pungent.

"Herr-mee-o-knee."

Her mind went into a frenzy noticing so much about him immediately. His pronunciation of her name had gotten remarkably better, and while she'd wince at his butchering of her name in the past, she found that the current way he said her name was rather endearing. Then she compared the thick Slavic accent to the Charlie's East End accent. Viktor would always pronounce her name slowly, while Charlie's pronunciation often sounded like 'Heh-my-knee', when he didn't just call her 'Mione'. Viktor pronounced her name with care and reverence while Charlie said it comfortably and casually.

Finally, she noted that his tone with her had remained has open and vulnerable as it had always been, whether it had been during her fourth year, or during Bill and Fleur's wedding. He wasn't trying to hide his emotions the way Charlie did and it made her uncomfortable. His concern was intimidating and she found herself unable to will her defiance to the surface, instead wanting to run almost immediately.

"Do not run, ve must talk."

He moved to sit in the chair to her right, and she found herself looking out the window on her left.

"What do you want, Viktor?"

"You look like death."

Hermione noted the accusatory tone in his voice as he noted that she hadn't been taking care of herself well. It wasn't a false observation. She had few comforts, after all there was little she could afford, but she couldn't afford to make any long-term plans. After all, if she heard anything relating to her parents, she'd drop it all to investigate.

Right?

Except...

She had stopped looking out for them for months now. She'd given up months ago and; if she had been perfectly honest with herself, had hoped not to find her parents for fear of realising just how much she had changed. She'd just refused to admit it until her past forced itself on her, and now that past had found a voice with which to speak to her.

"Herr-mee-o-knee, look at me."

The gentle command found herself obeying it and she looked into dark eyes, nearly pitch black, that gazed at her with concern. She spoke again, without thinking, willing her defiant heart to defend her now from the past that threatened to drown her again.

"What do you want from me?"

"Everything, vhat more is der to vant?"

She let out a soft gasp at his instantaneous answer. There had been no hesitation, and she saw his eyes burn with a passion that was unfamiliar to her, despite it being common in his eyes whenever she thought about him. She also noticed; with some amusement, that he had quoted Neil Gaiman's work, something she had often cited as her favourite fiction series due to its existential perspectives. She responded, with a wry grin.

"The price of getting what you want is having what you once wanted, Viktor."

"Then haff you found, vatever it is you vere looking for, vhen you ran away?"

Had she?

Honestly, the answer wasn't clear to her.

She must've been silent for quite awhile since he decided to continue.

"I had to find you. You vere all I had left."

Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, tears brimming in his eyes. She'd ran away from everyone to avoid this, but the heartbreak in his eyes made her heart go out to him. She was just too empathic to deny him and her hand instinctively moved to cover his.

"It's hard Viktor," she choked, "we've lost so many people to the horrors of war."

Inhaling deeply to compose himself, Viktor's next words chilled her to the bone.

"Yes, but you vere not a 'horror'."

She sat there stunned.

"My family... They chose to side viff him. I refused, and vhen they tried to force me, I had no choice but to protect myself."

Tears were flowing freely between the both of them, and Hermione felt like a dam had broken inside of her.

"Herr-mee-o-knee, I cannot lose you too."

Sobbing openly now, Hermione leant forward and grasped his face between her hands, not caring that the other cafe-goers were starting to stare.

"Viktor, I've been lost for a long time now. I can't find myself anymore. You shouldn't have come, because no one's home."

Looking into her eyes, he moved closer and Hermione thought he was moving to kiss her. She remembered her first kiss. He'd been gentle and careful, and she'd felt a burning sensation in her head as blood rushed into her face, making her blush, before a burning sensation had settled in her stomach. He had held her cheek softly and she let herself compare the moment to those of fairytales, finding the situation not too far from the idealised scenarios. It had been so long ago.

It was too much. The pain was on the verge of physically hurting her now and Hermione saw flashes of a red-haired man crying over his twin, of her and Harry crying in a tent wondering if Ron would come back, and of seeing Hagrid carrying Harry's body back to Hogwarts. She turned and ran out the door, ignoring the fact that she left her purse and book in the café. Running out, she ran into the first alley she could find and Apparated.

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_Short chapter but we're coming to the close of the first act, and the stage is still being set for the story. I would really appreciate some opinions on the story's direction so far or opinions on my writing style._

_Reviews please!_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Note**__: I don't own Harry Potter._

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_**It is such a terrible thing to fall, but far more terrible is to admit it.**_

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After Apparating into her apartment, Hermione rushed for the bathroom, a strange feeling of horror welling within her as she threw up into the toilet, gripping onto the cold porcelain. Her hands shook as cold sweat and free flowing tears mixed on the surface of her skin.

How long had it been since anyone had touched her the way Viktor had? With such care and reverence?

A flash of red hair came to mind immediately but Hermione realised that even Charlie hadn't touched her like that. Charlie... had sought her out for comfort. He had been but a broken man, held together by something more mysterious than magic and as desperate as sheer willpower, trying to fill the gaps in his soul with the only person who could possibly accept him, shattered as he was yet trying to be a whole.

Viktor, on the other hand, was not yet broken; merely cracked. Yet he was already guilty for that imperfection despite being surrounded by worse, as he stood on the outside, trying to enter her life. His tender touch made promises she couldn't accept because she didn't deserve any of them. Not after what she had done to him.

So Hermione cried, for the innocence lost, for lives destroyed, and for love she couldn't let in because she was trying so hard to hide herself from the world outside. It was like the sky had fallen on her and as she sobbed and heaved, she felt a rise in her chest before she leaned over the toilet and got sick once more.

Blood rushing to her head, throat sore, and eyes red with tears, Hermione slumped to the side and passed out against the wall. The tears still flowed freely as memories surfaces.

_**One Year Ago**_

_She had heard of this object from Harry and Ron, but this was the first time Hermione had encountered it personally. Walking through the wreckage in the Room of Requirement, where countless objects had been stored away or discarded, Hermione came face to face with the Mirror of Erised. _

_And what she saw horrified her, for reasons she did not comprehend._

_Her hazel eyes met the eyes of the image in the mirror. A childlike grin broke out on the image and Hermione saw an eleven year old version of herself smiling at her, sitting on the dusty floor with a large tome in hand that she recognised as Hogwarts A History. _

"_Tragic isn't it?"_

_Whipping around, Hermione's breath stilled as a ghost of a beautiful woman, with long grey robes and sleek black hair floated down from the ceiling. Before her stood Helena Ravenclaw; the Grey Lady, ghost of Ravenclaw's daughter._

"_You can see what's in the mirror? I-I thought that only the individual could see their heart's deepest desire."_

_Helena looked down at her before leaning forward and glancing at the mirror, pity obvious on her face._

"_Yes, it is true that I cannot see what the Mirror of Erised shows you. However, I know what it does, and if you think about it and about the human condition, you would feel sorry for anyone who was foolish enough to look upon the mirror."_

_Hermione threw her gaze back on the image, her younger self still reading happily. Instinctively, she felt the need to defend herself from the ghost's judgement._

"_You said it was tragic, but all I see is a younger, more carefree time. That's not pitiable, that's understandable. After all, I just lived through a war, at the very heart of it."_

"_You see, but you have yet to understand then, girl. What you see is your heart's deepest, darkest desire, however impossible. If what you say is true, you do not desire a lack of care. Instead, you desire that-" Helena gestured towards the mirror, "which is pure. That which is precious. That..."_

_The image in the mirror made eye contact with Hermione once more, and she found herself breaking eye contact feeling despair well within her._

"_-which is innocent."_

_Hermione choked back a sob and suddenly realised that she'd been crying as Helena had spoken. Turning on her heel, Hermione ran out of the room. The castle suddenly felt like a prison and all thoughts of checking for lingering dark artefacts that were still around had left her find. _

_A few hours later, she found herself outside a small house in an even smaller neighbourhood that felt foreign to her, despite having called it her home for seventeen years of her life. The crunch of dragon-hide boots on gravel alerted her to Viktor's arrival._

"_Herm-own-ninny, you sent me Patronus message? I haff come, and I am glad you are safe. Vas vorried after ve ran from the vedding."_

"_Viktor, I need your help. You're the only one I know who would help me do this."_

_She refused to look him in the eye, staring at the family sitting around for dinner in the house she used to call home. She had to get this done before her heart wavered._

"_Vat do you need that your friends cannot do for you?"_

_Footsteps moved closer to her and Hermione felt her body on edge by his close proximity, still uncomfortable with any close contact so soon after having to fear for her life on a regular basis. At her silence, he chose to continue._

"_I haff also had many things go wrong and need to deal viff them, but I vill help you if I can."_

_Turning around to face him, Hermione made her request._

"_I need to feel like I used to. It's been so hard Viktor, and I'm so tired! Look at me... I don't think either of us recognises me anymore," she blurted out, choking back another sob._

_She knew that her eyes were still red and puffy, and her cheeks still flushed and her lip trembling. She had not stopped crying since her revelation in the Room of Requirement in Hogwarts and some part of her felt a certain satisfaction noticing his reaction to her appearance. For a moment, she took pleasure in realising that she was the focus of his attention, something she hadn't felt since the war ended, leaving everyone to run around and check on their loved ones, friends, homes, and so on. John Milton had said; 'Innocence, once lost, can never be regained. Darkness, once gazed upon, can never be lost.' It was a horribly apt quote for this situation. _

_She'd seen Harry and Ron around but it felt like an age since they'd had spent time together. In the aftermath of the war, no one was ready to let anyone get close and now Hermione, who had struggled with feeling like she was always on the outside, even with her friends, needed to be let in. She reached out to him, because up to the night the trio had gone into hiding to hunt the Horcruxes, he had always showered her with attention. She hoped that he would still be up to do it now, when she needed it the most._

"_I needed to see you-" and Hermione hesitated as she chose her next words carefully, "- because you were always able to cheer me up and make me feel better. I needed that, but I had to get away from the others. I just can't be around them right now, with all the pain..."_

_A generic answer, one that didn't explicitly ask for too much, nor promise something she could not give. She felt mildly guilty watching his face soften and a small tilt of his lips indicate he was smiling, care evident on his face. _

_He moved in closer and Hermione felt the warmth of his palm on her cheek. Already, he was giving her the human contact she was craving. _

_And if her planned worked, he'd give her one last thing that she NEEDED._

"_Of course, Herm-own-ninny. I understand and in fact, I am fery happy to see you. I needed to see someone too, to go past the things dat haff happened."_

_A coughing fit appeared to take over Hermione then, breaking the mood and she pulled back. _

"_Oh Merlin! I'm so sorry, I've been so busy helping out at Hogwarts, the dust has been getting to me." _

_Shy hazel eyes met Viktor's pitch black ones and a small giggle broke out between them and Hermione felt her forced laughter become genuine as Viktor's face showed nothing but elation. The plan was in motion, however, so Hermione carried on and extracted a flask from her robes. She hesitated, but only for a moment and Viktor did not pick up on it._

"_I've actually got some Butterbeer on me," she muttered and took a gulp from the flask before offering it to Viktor, who took it eagerly and drank from it. She watched as brow furrowed, tasting the potion she'd mixed into the Butterbeer. His eyes looked to her with shock and hurt, but she would not meet his gaze, instead choosing to focus on finding the vial of counter-potion that she'd brought for herself to neutralize the Sleeping Draught._

_He collapsed in front of her and she immediately went to work looking for his wand, before extracting her own from her pockets. _

_It had to have been Viktor. It would've been too easy to track her if she'd had done this to someone from the British Ministry's jurisdiction. Viktor was a foreign wizard (under another government's jurisdiction), holding a wand from a recently deceased wandmaker (meaning there would be no one to help track the spell that she was about to cast on her wand), who was a celebrity (making him naturally inaccessible), had made him perfect for her plans to run away. Pointing Viktor's wand at her own, she muttered the spell._

"_Magicae numerous finem."_

_Her wand glowed, before cracks began appearing in the wood until it burst open along the wand and Hermione saw wisps of light leave her wand. A hollow feeling overtook her and she thought of Harry's expression when his wand had been snapped. She didn't understand it, but she felt that watching the magic leave her 'dying' wand had been the closest she'd ever come to understanding the 'soul' of wands._

_She cast one last glance at Viktor's unconscious body, and his hurt expression flashed before her._

_She turned and Apparated._

_**Present Day**_

Viktor's expression would continue to haunt her for the next year and was often the last thing she saw before she woke up in the morning.

Even more shocking, was that after all she had done, he had come to her open and vulnerable. Still trusting her, or at least _wanting_ to trust her.

Waking up, Hermione realised she was still on her bathroom floor.

She climbed up, and looked at her clammy expression in the mirror above her sink. Tears streaked her face and her skin was pale and clammy. If she hadn't known better, Hermione thought she looked about as bad as she had a year ago when Helena Ravenclaw's ghost had brought her to tears.

In addition to all of that, she felt severely dehydrated, but before she could do anything, she heard a knock at her door.

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_If it's not apparent, there are a lot of unhealthy human relationships in this story. That's life, that's human, and that's something I love exploring. There's a long journey ahead of me (provided people show interest in the story) before this story comes to a satisfying and (hopefully) happy ending._

_Reviews please!_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Author's Note**__: Hi guys. I've received all the email notifications over the past year and I always had this fiction on my mind. I've got a huge message to everyone who left a nice message or clicked a fave/follow button down below. Don't want to front load it here._

_As always, I don't own Harry Potter._

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She heard the knocking on her door once more - orderly and firm raps on the cheap wood on the door of her apartment.

It occurred to her, hopefully, that if she willed it hard enough she could make the door vanish for her would-be-visitor, much like how untrained children could cause magical occurrences through extreme emotional reactions. Unsurprisingly though, nothing happened, since developing a conscious awareness of using magic tended to cause subconscious outbursts of magic to decrease.

The knocking continued, but it didn't seem any more urgent as it continued. Hermione slowly shuffled to the door, praying every step of the way that whoever it was would give up and leave. Finally, she arrived at her front door and steeled herself as she reached forward to open the door.

She let out a gasp as she saw who was at her door, the greeting that she had prepared lost on her for a moment. Quickly she caught herself before putting on a small smile and greeting the young girl at her door.

"Oh hello, can I help you?"

The young girl on her doorstep was wearing a school uniform sans the usual blazer since it was summer in Melbourne. It took a moment for Hermione to remind herself that the seasons were reversed in Australia, as she observed the pleated skirt with a tartan pattern. It was a rather clean and proper look and Hermione was reminded of a younger version of herself, at least in the way that she carried herself. At that age, Hermione could only have wished for hair as sleek and blond as that. The young girl straightened her uniform and put on a confident expression, before thrusting a small tin with a coin slot on top in front of her. Without missing a beat, she began what was obviously, a well-rehearsed line.

"Hello miss, I'm Amy from the Fitzroy Grammar School _(A/N: Elementary School basically)_ and I'm here as part of our school's community service program. We're collecting for the poor and needy so that we can have a charity drive on Christmas. Would you like to donate to help out those in need?"

The young girl smiled and Hermione realised that less than two years ago, she'd have been horribly envious of her sleek blond hair and straight teeth. There was a time when Hermione DID care about her femininity and often wondered if either of her male friends saw her as a girl. She'd hide it behind a mask of indifference, playing the 'mature-beyond-her-age' card but some part of her had always, childishly, wanted to be wanted. It had been why she was so charmed by Viktor when he'd pursued her during the Triwizard Tournament, and why Ron's words at the Yule Ball in the same year had hurt so much. Yet, that desire to be seen as a girl had been lost so quickly. The realisation of her childish desire had not been savoured and she'd been forced to fully embrace her maturity to survive the next few years.

Hermione smiled softly as she recalled her own attempts at helping society when she had been involved with S.P.E.W. Memories of a time when she hadn't been so afraid of putting herself out there came to mind and she found herself compelled to help the girl's cause.

"Of course, just hold on while I grab some money."

"Sure! Thank you so much!"

Scouting around her, she noticed her purse sitting neatly on the sorry excuse for a dining table that came with her apartment. She paused, realizing that she'd left it back at the cafe where Viktor had ambushed her at, the day before. His betrayed expression from over a year ago flashed before her as she approached it, signalling another wave of flashes were about to occur.

He'd been here, or at least had known how to bypass her wards to send this into her own home. The thought sent a wave of panic through her, seizing her with a terrifying and familiar sensation that she hadn't felt since the war. Memories of mornings where she'd woken from nightmares, wondering if the images of Snatchers storming towards their tents were a cruel form of unconscious Divination that would happen the moment the moment her head left the mattress she lay on. By now, this fear was familiar to her. It made her loathe herself, because she knew rationally that her fears were highly improbable, yet the flashes would seize her with fear, rooting her into the spot, trapping her between one breath and her last. She would be consciously aware, yet a fraction of each second would result in her mind stealing her away to an old memory.

This was her life now. Shaking, she turned around to face the doorway as fear gripped her like a cage around her heart. In the doorway, she saw Ron, she saw Viktor, she saw Charlie, and the figure there just kept phasing in and out, between faces she'd given up forgetting. Wearing a fake smile, she walked forward, her mind trapping her every step of the way in 12 Grimmauld Place, in Malfoy Manor, and in the Battle of Hogwarts until she eventually stood in front of the young girl in the doorway of her tiny Melbourne apartment.

This was her life now, the pain of the war squeezing months of trauma into seconds of her days. The nameless people in the streets wore the faces and voices of everyone who'd ever meant anything to her, either in her dreams or her nightmares. For the most part, it had been manageable for the last few months, but something about coming into contact with Charlie and Viktor over the last two days brought a lot of long forgotten internal conflicts to the fore of her mind.

She gave Amy a ten dollar note and sent her on her way with a smile, remembering the vision the Mirror of Erised had given her and the voice of a ghost whispering of innocence. She turned to get ready for her Muggle day job, as she remembered the time she spent in the Department of Mysteries, with its turning corridors that never seemed to lead to the same room twice. She walked towards her bedroom in the real world while her mind had her walk down the aisles in the Hall of Prophecies. Next to her, she heard Madam Pomfrey voice her concerns in her ear.

"You should come back to us dear. There are techniques Mediwitches know that could help with your memory issues. At the very least, a Pensieve would help you unload some of those memories that burden you."

It was an interesting idea, one that she'd surprisingly not considered to that point. She turned towards the voice to see Viktor standing there, with the same look of adoration in his eyes that she'd dreamt about all through the night. That look in his eyes had killed her, with a look that burned her with memories of his love. The feeling of his warm gaze burned her, as it reminded her of a love that had been offered which she had rejected because she did not deserve it. She had woken up from nightmares throughout the night, filling in the blanks from the day before, wondering if he would've yelled at her, tried to pretend that everything was okay, or worse, tried to tell her that he still loved her.

It took her a moment to realize that this wasn't a momentary hallucination, as he reached out to her and cradled her cheek in his large, warm hand. Her breath hitched as she was assaulted by her mind suddenly withdrawing into a fight or flight response. She contemplated attacking him, running away, or just crying and screaming until a neighbor would respond.

It seemed that the gentle brush of a life she had left behind, was enough to break a hole in the makeshift wall she'd built around her to try and protect herself from the weight of her depression. Already, she felt like she was drowning and in a dark corner of her heart, she cursed herself for stopping to introduce herself to the two young boys on the Hogwarts Express in her first year.

She looked at Viktor but with him right in front of her, the only way for her to describe it was that she couldn't actually see him. Where he stood, she saw her shame, her cruelty and her selfishness.

"Herr-mee-o-knee, ve have a lot to talk about. Please, sit vith me."

Silence passed, and many silent questions were traded. Viktor tilted his head upward, let out a slow sigh as if to calm his own breathing and continued speaking.

"I had already forgiven you before the Daily Prophet spread the news. I am begging you dear Herr-mee-o-knee, do not turn me away again."

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_**Author's Personal Note**__: __Hi everyone. For those of you who aren't aware, this story started as part of a therapy exercise. I have crippling levels of depression and PTSD for reasons I don't feel like elaborating. When I started writing this, it was a way for me to take a character I could relate to, and write them a story to give them a happy ending I'd like. The purpose was to help me come to terms with my own issues by understanding what I felt these characters needed. Eventually, I hit a writer's block because I couldn't express how I was feeling. I'm writing this again because I think it had value for me and I really need it right about now._

_In regards to the direction of the story, I think each of Hermione's possible love interests will be largely symbolic of the very human choices she's allowed to make. This won't be pretty. It won't be kind or fair. I don't intend to leave anyone clean by the end of this. Despite that, I think that would really allow me to tell a very meaningful tale, as long as you'll put up with a really slow burn of a story. _

_Reviews please!_


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